


Baby, It’s Cold Outside

by overratedantihero



Series: Strange is the Call of This Strange Man [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, No Consent Issues Despite Source Material, cabin in the snow, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overratedantihero/pseuds/overratedantihero
Summary: Dick Grayson is stranded in a cabin with Slade Wilson during a snow storm. Dick Grayson is very much okay with this.





	Baby, It’s Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always loved Baby, It’s Cold, which was written and produced in an era where it was scandalous for a woman to spend alone time with a man. Therefore, saying “whelp I tried to leave” for plausible deniability was a safer bet than just saying “actually, I really want to stay.” I always interpreted it as a cheeky response to sexist expectations. It didn’t age well, and I can see why people don’t like it now. 
> 
> So I thought I’d write something in a similar spirit, but more contemporary. A scandalous rendezvous that probably shouldn’t be happening but, whelp, both parties want it to happen so there you have it. But really, can anyone blame Dick? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“I really can’t stay,” Dick murmured, even as he tightened his grip around a down feathered pillow, curling in on himself enough that the heavy, sheep wool throw blanket slid to swallow his naked shoulders and most of his neck. He was in one of Slade’s cabins, on Slade’s wonderfully soft mattress, across the room from the crackling fire that Slade was stoking with a fire iron. There was a purpose to this little winter excursion, but Dick had wrapped up his mission the day before and now he clung to borrowed time with a man that the capes and cowls crowd would see hung (most, metaphorically. Most.)

“Grayson, it’s cold outside,” Slade said, setting the fire iron aside and turning towards Dick. Slade wasn’t in anything other than boxers and flannel pajama pants, but the cold never seemed to touch him anyway. “You were like ice until a couple of hours ago.”

Dick stretched out underneath the blanket, the heat flushing his naked body. He had woken up shivering, skin like ice, this morning. It’s what prompted Slade to leave the bed and light the fireplace. It’s also what prompted the mug of hot chocolate on the bedside table, the thick blanket, and the neatly folded flannel pajamas at the foot of the bed. Dick hadn’t touched the pajamas.

“My brothers will start to worry,” Dick murmured. It was true, despite the utter lack of conviction in is voice. He could see Damian now, glaring out a Manor window as Dick took far long to return. Tim was probably tracking Dick by some invasive means, and if not then he was staking out the cave in anticipation for Dick’s appearance. Even Jason tended to get jumpy when Dick disappeared for too long.

“So? I don’t see how that’s a reason to hurry,” Slade murmured, approaching the bed with his usual predatory air. Slade was a hunter to his bones, and that should ward Dick away. Instead, Dick shivered and bit his lip.

“B is probably pacing a hole in the floor,” Dick offered, even as a grin spread when Slade put a knee on the bed beside Dick. Dick glanced up to study Slade’s face as Slade leaned closer.

“You’re shivering. You should come closer to the fire, warm yourself.” Slade placed an all too gentle peck on Dick’s forehead. Dick closed his eyes and sighed, already feeling warm to his core.

“Guess I could stay a little while longer. Got any egg nog?” He asked, sitting up to follow when Slade backed off the bed. Dick let the blanket fall away; the room was thoroughly heated. Slade snorted and raised his eyebrows at him.

“I’m not wasting good whiskey on your egg milk punch.”

“Then use not-so-good whiskey,” Dick piped.

Slade hmph’d and turned away. “Kid, the only kind of whiskey I keep is good whiskey.”

As Slade strode from the main room, Dick crawled from the bed after him, wrapping the heavy blanket over his shoulders and around his body to maintain some semblance of modesty. He did not reach for the flannel pajamas, or for his Nightwing uniform from where it hung near the fire. Acknowledging either may mean he’d have to dress and take his leave, and if Dick were honest, he didn’t want to leave. Not yet, not even with all of the implications that’d be had in Gotham (are rumors still implications if they’re all blatantly, obviously true?) 

Despite Slade’s claim, when Dick wandered into the kitchen he watched while Slade poured whiskey into a wide mug before adding pre-made eggnog out of a carton that Dick had brought. Once he’d mixed the cocktail with a silver spoon, he handed the mug to Dick. Dick accepted it, grinning over the rim.

“I don’t know good whiskey from SoCo,” Dick reminded Slade, to taunt him. Slade grimaced and Dick laughed, which just served to soften Slade’s expression. Satisfied, Dick took a long draught. It was surprisingly light on alcohol, and Dick relished the fact that Slade mixed him a drink to his taste. Or maybe Slade was just clinging tight to his whiskey. Bruce only poured light whenever he was pouring a favorite for a less-than-favorite guest. Which reminded Dick-

“The family’s gonna talk,” Dick said, casually, before his next sip. “Big Blue might find out, if B asks him to search for me,” he added with a frown, a little less flippant.

Slade rolled his eye and wrapped an arm around Dick’s blanket-padded waist. He pulled Dick flush against him and Dick set the mug on the nearest counter so that he could wrap his arms around Slade’s neck and snuggle even closer.

“Kid,” Slade murmured, voice low and gruff in that way that Dick could feel all the way down to his toes. “Outside’s bad. It’ll be up to your knees, pretty bird. You’ll freeze. Stay here, where it’s warm.”

Dick chewed his slip. That was a good point. Slade was full of good points right now, what with his bare chest and his gravelly voice and the smell of his beard oil otherwise clouding Dick’s judgement.

”Maybe I could stay a day or too longer. If you insist,” he murmured, slowly, eyes twinkling up at Slade. “ _If_ you insist,” Dick emphasized, letting the blanket slide from his shoulders to pool on the ground. 

Slade grinned wolffishly. That was an implication he understood. 


End file.
